


In the Fire Caves

by deborah_judge



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, F/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deborah_judge/pseuds/deborah_judge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a very flawed woman and her very flawed gods.  Winn Adami, pre and post series.  Originally posted in 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Occupation

The first time Winn Adami lit a prayer-fire of her own she was thirteen years old. The fields that had once fed her village had been burned and ploughed under, and there were rocks in them, but the rocks gave her a place to hide. Once hidden she knelt, bowed, and took out one of the candles that the Cardassian officer had given her.

Her body still felt raw from her night with him. In the morning, he had given her three candles, a frying pan, a bar of soap, matches and a small bag of grain. She had no name for him but 'Officer', had no other name for any of them. It was easier that way to do with them what she had to.

A year ago she had decided that she was old enough and approached one of the soldiers who was known to have a fondness for pigtailed girls. There was no point in feeling ashamed, since her family needed the supplies. It had hurt, the first time he lay with her, and sometimes it still did. But it had to be done, so there was no point in thinking too much about it.

Adami clutched her precious candle. Her mother had always kept a prayer-fire burning in the home, no matter what it had cost her. "The Prophets are our only hope," she used to say. "Only the Prophets can save Bajor." Winn Garah had been of the priestly d'jarra, back before the occupation when such things still mattered. The elder Winn had even once thought she could become a Vedek before a Cardassian officer had decided that her talents would be better used in his bed. When he tired of her he passed her on to the garrison, who gave her occasional bread for her services. Still, somehow there was always a candle.

"Sometimes the Prophets speak to us in flame," Garah had told Adami. Garah had prayed to the burning candle, had even seemed to find some hope in it. Adami wanted this. Her hands clenched around the candle. She wanted this more than anything on Bajor.

Adami lit the candle, her hand trembling. She placed it carefully on a rock, bowed again before it, and closed her eyes.

"Prophets," she said.

The Prophets would soon surround her, embrace her with their love. In the face of their greatness nothing would matter, not even the Cardassian fingerprints on her body.

"Prophets," she said again. "Prophets. I give myself to you. I belong to you. Take me, and use me for your purposes. Even if you have to kill me, even if you have to destroy me. Only take me, and make me your messenger on Bajor."

She knew the Prophets would speak to her. She was of the priestly d'jarra, daughter of the great Kais and Vedeks who had spoken the words of the Prophets in ancient times. Surely she was a worthy vessel for their service.

"Let me be nothing before you. Take away everything I am, and make me yours." She felt the flame shake with the passion of her words. "And let me see you." Her voice broke with longing. "Please, let me see you. I'll do anything, be anything. Just let me see you."

Adami thought of her family's ruined fields, of her mother wasting of Cardassian disease. If the Prophets would only show themselves, then she would understand. It might still be terrible, but it would be possible to bear. She would praise the Prophets, even from the ashes of Bajor.

"Please," she begged, "let me see you."

Adami opened her eyes and gazed hopefully at the prayer-fire. She stared at it for a long time. Surely the Prophets loved her. Surely they would answer her. Surely they would accept her offering. She watched, waiting.

The fire showed her nothing. She watched until darkness fell, but no visions came. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was the Cardassian officer, his limbs broken, his skin flayed off his body in great gashes, as he writhed, screaming, twisting in the flames.

 

*

Next chapter: In the Fire Caves, Dukat asks Winn a question.


	2. The Love of the Pah-wraiths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in the Fire Caves, Winn begins to understand what Dukat has become.

The Fire Caves were not, after the first moments, uncomfortably hot. Nor were they dark. The fires of the Pah-wraiths were gentle, almost a comforting caress, soothing like warm water on a wrinkled face. To someone who had read their book, there was nothing surprising about this whatsoever.

Winn Adami, no longer Kai, paced along the cave's inside wall. Inside, the caves were an infinite space. She could walk forever. Still, they were closed to the outside, and that made them a prison.

An eternity of imprisonment. That was the punishment to which Winn had condemned herself by consenting to the destruction of the book of the Kosst Amojen. No, consent was too weak a word. She had caused its destruction, and with it the imprisonment of the Pah-wraiths. The worst part was, she could not understand why. There was nothing more precious to her than this book, not even her life. It was only through this book that she had ever looked upon the face of a deity and known herself chosen.

She did not approach the Pah-wraiths. She was unworthy of them, unworthy of their trust, unworthy of what they had been willing to do.

In time, Dukat came to her. He had taken back his Bajoran appearance, and was just as handsome as Winn remembered from when he first came to her as the answer to a long-denied prayer. His face was lined with the same false evidence of physical labour, and his eyes held the same feigned humility. "Adami," he spoke her name softly.

Winn thought to correct him, but she was no longer Kai, no longer Eminence, no longer deserving of the honour of her title. "What do you want from me?" she asked. Surely there must be something, otherwise he would not bother to pretend to be kind.

Dukat raised his hand towards her, and as she flinched away his fingertips brushed her cheek. "Adami," he said, deceitful submission in his voice. "I need your help."

"You are not worthy of it," Winn said, stepping out of his reach.

"I know," Dukat said, "but I need it. Please help me, Adami. I need to know what I am."

Of course. Winn smiled at the thought of the power over Dukat that had suddenly been given her. Of course he would not know. He had never been able to read the book. The Pah-wraiths had never given him their secrets, and would not even now, not even in death. Unless she told him, he would not understand what he was becoming.

Winn knew that Dukat must be overwhelmed with memories, sensations, visions of events that have been and will be and never were. He would not understand them, because in nonlinear time there was no space for explanations.

The book of the Kosst Amojen had made this all clear. The Pah-wraiths had once been Prophets, beings existing outside time and perceiving all eternity in an instant. If they had been Prophets, then they still were, and would be. Nonlinearity makes this necessary.

If the Pah-wraiths had succeeded in annihilating the Prophets, then they themselves would never have existed. Bajor would always have been a world without gods. There would be nothing to attract the Cardassians, and no wormhole to bring the Dominion. Bajor would be a world of peace, and would always have been. The occupation, and the Dominion war, would never have happened.

What gods could love their people so much as to end their eternal existence to bring them peace? Winn had wept when she read this, her tears of relief and gratitude sizzling on the burning page. The Prophets, who had abandoned Bajor and left her to suffer, were worthy of death. The Pagh-wraiths, who were willing to die to save Bajor, alone were worthy of worship.

And still, even shaken by the self-annihilating love of the Pah-wraiths, Winn had chosen in her last moments to give her life to imprison the Pah-wraiths and save the Prophets. It was the choice that she had made that had saved the Prophets. It was a betrayal of everything she believed, and she could not understand why she had done it.

Dukat was transforming, becoming nonlinear. In time he might become a Pah-wraith, but first he must become a Prophet. It would suit him. He would watch, unacting, while Bajorans suffered and gave their lives for his sake. When they died, unanswered, they would call to him lovingly with their dying breath.

"What am I, Adami?" Dukat asked.

 _You are the voice that does not answer_ , Winn thought. _The ears that hear screams of agony and demand praise. You are the eyes blinded to the suffering you will never cease to bring, and I will never forgive you_.

"You are the tyrant of Bajor," Winn said, and turned away.

*

Next chapter: The death of Kai Opaka's son.


	3. The Death of the Beloved Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from Kai Opaka's son causes Vedek Winn to take a stand.

Before Opaka Tehar led his resistance cell against the Cardassian garrison at Kendra Valley, he came in disguise to Vedek Winn to ask for her blessing. She recognized him immediately. He had his mother's round face and bright eyes, and when she touched his pagh she felt the same soft colours. She had heard of Kai Opaka's legendary son, the resistance hero, but he had never before come to the Vedek Hall. Now that he was here, Winn would allow him his disguise, for the moment.

"I knew you would understand," the young Opaka said. "If I go on this mission against the Cardassians, I need to know the Prophets are with me."

"They are, my son," Winn said. "The Prophets are always with those who serve them."

"I was hoping you would say that," said Tehar. He seemed young, absurdly young to be leading armies. Winn thought of her Kai, her friend, who had taken her from the obscure monastery where she had taken refuge and given her a future. It was a betrayal to meet with her son secretly this way. Still, she could not turn away someone who was willing to fight for the good of Bajor.

"Why did you come to me, my child?" Winn asked.

"The Kai..." Opaka Tehar hesitated. "The Kai does not understand. She thinks we can end the occupation peacefully, through negotiation and prayer. I heard about what you said in the Degari Temple during the Gratitude Festival. To hear words like that from a Vedek," Tehar suddenly smiled, "it was as if the Prophets really are with us after all."

It had been so little, what Vedek Winn had allowed herself to say in that sermon. Only a few veiled words about the longing of the Prophets to walk with their children in freedom. Kai Opaka had rebuked her for it, saying that she would bring down the wrath of the Cardassians and see the Vedek Assembly destroyed. Winn had knelt in public penance, but had apologized only for any damage to the Kai's honour that she might have caused.

"The Prophets will favour us if we follow their will," Winn said. "Why do you fear, child? Why do you doubt?"

"Bajorans will die," Tehar said simply. "There will be retaliation. The Cardassians have sworn that for every Cardassian dead they will kill ten Bajorans. But we can't not fight for that reason, can we? Bajorans die every day in the occupation, and will continue to die until the Cardassians are gone."

"You have the blessing of the Prophets," Winn said, allowing harshness to creep into her voice. It disgusted her, this belief among Bajorans that they could end the occupation without bloodshed, or that being unable to do so made them somehow morally culpable. "The Bajorans who die will walk with the Prophets as honoured martyrs in the Celestial Temple in eternal joy."

"Thank you," said Tehar, and bowed his head. "I'm so afraid. Not for myself, but for Bajor. But this is the will of the Prophets, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Winn. She stood, and placed her hands on Opaka Tehar's forehead. "May the Prophets walk with you, my child," she blessed him. "May they stand with you, and guard you. May they guide your hands, and may they watch your path, and may they always receive you in love."

The boy stood, and Winn took his hands. "One more thing," she said. "You did not tell me your name, so I do not know who you are, and I do not need to notify anyone in your family of your plans. Anyone at all."

Tehar grinned, understanding. Before he turned away his eyes were bright like those of the ancient Vedeks who had spoken with the Prophets face to face.

They brought Tehar's body back to the courtyard in front of the Vedek Assembly. The mourning procession had already turned into a mob by the time it reached the capital. When Kai Opaka emerged, the shouting Bajorans would not let her pass.

Winn understood. The people had had enough of the cowardice of Kais and Vedeks. And in that moment, so had she. Winn remembered her mother's death, how her mother had blessed the name of the Prophets even as the Cardassian wasting disease had claimed her life. The local Vedek had praised her meekness. Vedek Winn would bring a different message.

She ran to the steps of the Vedek Hall, overlooking the crowd. Jaro Essa was leading them. He had been her student, once, before he had stormed out of the temple to join the resistance. He would welcome a Vedek who was not afraid to speak.

"Rise up against the Cardassians!" Winn shouted to the crowd. "Follow the Prophets! Tehar has shown us the way!"

At Jaro's gesture the crowd parted, allowing Winn to pass. "Have not the Prophets taught you to forgive?" asked Kai Opaka, as Winn stepped into the crowd in front of her.

"No," Winn answered, and turning to the crowd left Opaka behind.

"Tehar died for our sins," Winn said as she moved through the crowd. "Our sins of apathy, and fear. Our lack of trust that the Prophets will not fail us. Tehar fulfilled the will of the Prophets. Who among you will do the same?"

Cardassian souldiers began to surround the square. Soon there would be bloodshed and death. But there would also be a beginning of something that should have begun long ago.

"Do you believe in the love of the Prophets?" Winn shouted. "Do you believe they tolerate those who make whores and beggars of their children? Did you stand with Tehar against the Cardassian oppressor?"

Finally Winn reached Tehar's body, Jaro at her side. She gathered the broken corpse in her arms. She would never bear a child, the Cardassians had made certain of that when she was still a girl. But she had called this boy her child, and he had asked for her blessing, and he had died because of the blessing she had given him.

"I have heard the voice of the Prophets," Winn said to her people. "They demand that we fight. They promise to stand by us, if only we are not afraid. The Prophets promise us victory." Winn lifted Tehar's body high over the crowd. "The Prophets ask us to follow!"

It was all lies, of course. Winn had heard the silence of the Prophets thundering out from the Celestial Temple. The only voice she heard was their mocking absence in the face of Bajor's agony. The Prophets had consented in contemptuous silence to the death of their beloved son, the same contemptuous silence that had greeted each and every Bajoran death. No Orb and no prayer-fire would ever tell Winn the Prophets' secrets, could ever make sense of the evil the Prophets had allowed. The only hope she could find was in her own words, and the only truth the one she would speak.

"Follow the Prophets," Winn said as the Cardassians bound her and led her away.

*

Notes:

The idea that Winn preached rebellion during the occupation (and that she was one of the few Vedeks to do so) belongs to selenak, who put it together out of various hints in canon.

Next chapter: In the Fire Caves, Winn prays to the Pagh-wraiths and is answered.


	4. Penitential Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winn prays to the Prophets and is answered.

In the Fire Caves, day and night were irrelevant. The walls of the cave always shone with the same gentle, muted brightness. Which was pleasant, but meant that Winn Adami had no idea when to say her morning prayers.

Winn could not recall the last time she had missed the daily office. It had been expected of her as Kai, and before that as a Vedek, and before that as a young Ranjin, and even before that when she had sought sanctuary as an adolescent in the monastery closest to her ruined home. She had even led secret gatherings of Bajorans in morning prayer in the Cardassian prison camp, though she cursed the Prophets after each prayer for each and every lash-mark on her back.

If the Pah-wraiths had succeeded in their self-annihilation, if she had not stopped them with her sudden betrayal, would she still have prayed? Winn liked to think so. She imagined facing the emptiness where the time-transcending Prophets had now never been, and finding in their nonexistence something at last worthy of veneration.

Winn remembered the first time she had tried to kill a Prophet. It had been during the Reckoning, the foretold time when the Prophets and the Pah-wraiths would fight their final battle for the rule of Bajor. She had known that it was coming. The ancient Prophecies predicted it, and the Prophets, when they could be bothered to speak, had never lied. Still, she had not imagined such destruction. Hundreds dead in earthquakes. Thousands dead in floods. All for a battle that was not even on Bajor. What gods would demand this death? What kindly gods would demand such sacrifice from their children?

On Deep Space Nine, Kai Winn had knelt before the Prophets and begged them to take her.

"Forgive my blindness," she had said. Cure my blindness, she wanted to say. Open my eyes that I may see the sense in this death, and worship your justice.

"I am the Kai of Bajor," Winn had said. "I offer myself to you as your humble servant."

Even in the prison camp she had never ceased to pray. Now here was the one to whom she had prayed, at last before her. Surely this Prophet would listen. Surely this Prophet must.

"Only speak to me," she whispered.

The Prophet walked past her. Winn did not know why she was surprised. After all, the Prophets had never answered her before.

As the chroniton radiation had filled the station, the Kai finally allowed herself to weep. "Prophets forgive me," she had said.

Sheltered by the warmth of the Fire Caves, Winn Adami, no longer Kai, wondered what she could have meant. Did she believe that the Prophets would speak forgiveness as they fled or died? You are right, child, and it is we who have sinned.

And if her gods were to die, where could she turn with her prayers?

It was an unsettling question. Shaken by it, she found herself kneeling to pray. Her priestly d'jarra reflexes had not failed her. Resigned, she spoke the series of meaningless monosyllabic sounds that always began Bajoran formal prayer.

"Prophets," she said after a time. Then she stopped herself. "Pah-wraiths. Come to me. Make me one with you. Let me serve you. Make me a vessel for your will."

It was a tired prayer, and Winn felt tired saying it. It had been her litany since childhood, and it was almost habit that kept it on her lips. Still, this time the Pah-wraiths were near, and perhaps this time they would answer.

After a time, Winn could not say how long, she felt the warmth around her begin to deepen. She felt a presence, soft and gentle, heralded by tongues of fire. Could it be that the beings who had once been Prophets had at last found her worthy? "Only take me," she whispered. The presence surrounded her, close and intimate. She shivered at the noncorporeal touch. "I never doubted," she said, which was only half a lie, and was rewarded for her words by feeling the presence closer, as if the being could penetrate through her very skin. "Prophets. Pah-wraiths." Perhaps there was no difference, or did not need to be, in the moment of this intimacy.

All her life she had longed for union with her gods with a longing so intense that its non-fulfillment was ceaseless agony. Now as this noncorporeal presence caressed her she felt her lifelong anger begin to dissolve. There were no answers in the touch, no words beyond the simple knowledge of love that in the moment was all the answer she needed. This being, Prophet or Pah-wraith, held her, accepted her gifts and returned them, moved gently around and in her.

The touch of her deity was more than intimate. It was erotic, bringing her pleasure in the depths of her body and soul. She opened herself and felt the being move deeper. In all her longings, she had never imagined that the touch of the Prophets would feel so sexual. It felt like the last time she had taken a lover to her bed, and the pleasure she had felt when he moved inside her. It felt like...

Winn froze, and jumped to her feet, her arousal turning quickly into nausea. "Dukat," she said.

He materialized, pressed against her, his right hand on her shoulder and his left on her waist. He was in his Bajoran form, naked and glistening. Once, she had licked the sweat off his Bajoran chest, savoring the taste and the heat and the hunger in his eyes. She could feel his warmth and moisture through the thin cloth of her dress. "Get away from me," she said.

"I see you still want me," he said, self-satisfied as usual, keeping his hands firmly in place. Tendrils of fire curled out from his limbs, surrounding her with flashes of heat.

"Go to your masters, the Pagh-wraiths," she said, pushing him away and stepping a few paces back. "If you want mercy," if you want love "seek it from them."

"Adami," Dukat said. "Never forget that you need me. You always have." He stretched out his hands to her, displaying the Bajoran body that he had shaped to deceive and pleasure her. "And I need you. I need you to tell me what I am."

This was not a question about his physical state, as he had clearly discovered its uses. Perhaps he was even beginning to move outside of time. She expected that he even knew that he was becoming a Prophet. His question was deeper than she had imagined. As was his need.

"You are deceit and lies," she said. "The violator of Bajor, and the betrayer of its people."

It was not the true answer, not the one which had been written in the book of the Kosst Amojen. It was the only answer she was willing to give him. He understood this, eventually, and left her in peace.

When Dukat was gone, she fell once again to her knees in the dirt on the floor of the cave. Prayer was of course impossible, with Dukat among the Prophets. And her book was gone, burned in the flames that somehow only warmed her with their gentle heat. Without prayer, she was utterly alone. She wondered if in time she would welcome even Dukat's company, and hated herself for the thought. "I will never forgive you," she said aloud. Let that be her only prayer. She dug her hands into the dirt and ashes on the ground, and cursed the Prophets and their Temple.

Her fingers connected with something that felt like parchment. She pulled it from the ground and placed it in the palm of her hand. It was a fragment of the book of the Kosst Amojen. What else could it be? Its edges were charred, and she could read only one letter. It was an ara, the first letter of the Bajoran alphabet. Winn kissed it, and clenched it to her chest.

In the ashes surrounding her she found other fragments, none of more than a few letters. There was nothing for her to arrange them on, so she pulled off her penitent's shift and tore it in half. The top half would be enough to cover her, in case Dukat should return. She lay the white cloth from the bottom half of her shift on the ground and placed the letters on it.

There was no hint as to how to arrange them. Nor did Winn have any idea how much of the book had survived. She could not know how long she spent rearranging letters, but they produced nothing that she could understand. Then she remembered what had first caused the book to reveal its secrets.

She stood, and walked to the stone wall of the cave. She picked up a rock from the ground and struck it against the stone to form an edge. She stood over her burnt fragments and held the rock over her, a last salute to the Celestial Temple. If the Prophets - or the Pah-wraiths - did not approve of what she was about to do, they were welcome to stop her. Deliberately, she brought the edge of the rock slowly down across her outstretched arm.

The first cut threw splatters of blood over the fragmented page. The letters glowed, suddenly alive. Winn cut again across her upper arm, and watched the letters dance before her with each drop of shed blood. Still, the words made no sense.

 _"Do you give yourself to the Pah-wraiths willingly?" Dukat had asked._

 _"With all my heart," Winn had answered._

She tore her makeshift knife across her chest. The letters bust into flame as the blood fell, rearranging themselves into new patterns, but still gave no answers. The loss of blood weakened her. She could no longer stand, so she bent over the burning page and let it take the blood from her body. "Prophets," she said, laughing that she could ever have believed that she was strong enough not to pray. "Pah-wraiths. Prophets." As her consciousness faded, she looked down on the words of black and white fire beneath her. For a moment, she thought that she could understand what they said.

*

Next chapter: The Pah-wraiths ask Kai Winn for a sacrifice that she is not willing to give.


	5. The Kai of Bajor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the caverns above the Fire Caves, Kai Winn realizes that the sacrifice demanded by the Pah-wraiths is one that she is unwilling to make.

The book of the Kosst Amojen is timeless, written in the eternal language of the Prophets and Pah-wraiths, without past or future. It tells the story of the brave and wise spirit who stood before the Prophets long ago and in a time yet to come, and first named them worthy of death.

 _What are we?_ the Kosst Amojen had said and will say to the Prophets. _Are we impotent to help the Bajorans in their need? Are we despots to accept the worship of a people we will not save?_

In the cavern overlooking the Fire Caves, the Pah-wraith in Dukat's form laughed. "Soon the Pah-wraiths will burn across Bajor," he said. Kai Winn knew that the time of destruction was near, the time the book had promised.

 _What are we?_ the Prophets had answered. _We are not the true gods of Bajor._ They left the Celestial Temple, and followed the Kosst Amojen to their long exile in the Fire Caves. Yet still they remained in the Celestial Temple, as they must, nontemporal, until their future selves make an end of all Bajor's gods.

"A universe in flames," Dukat said, staring brightly out of the cavern towards the doomed Prophets in their Temple. The eternity of the Prophets would be destroyed by fire, the gods of Bajor torn down in the self-immolation of the Pah-wraiths.

 _The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice so that the end may begin._ The book of the Kosst Amojen was clear on this point at least. When the Pah-wraiths had revived Dukat, returning him to his Cardassian form, Winn had shrieked in horror, terrified that her sacrifice had been refused. But on reflection, it made sense. It was a fitting form for those who had once been Prophets to take to end their lives, the form of the tyrant of Bajor. Let the Prophets see the form that they have taken, and know their shame.

Now that Dukat was in his Cardassian form, the Kai had expected to feel nothing but contempt for the man who had once been her lover. Almost nothing. She remembered the kiss that they had shared moments before his death, and imagined the feel of his Cardassian facial ridges under her fingers. She had allowed Cardassians to touch her as a child during the occupation. There was no guilt in this, since it had been necessary, and no pleasure either. But as Dukat reached up to heaven to begin his self-destruction, the fire of the Pah-wraiths in his eyes, it was the first time that Winn had ever found a Cardassian beautiful.

Without the Celestial Temple, without the Prophets, the Cardassians would never have been drawn to Bajor. Soon Dukat would die again, and with him the Prophets and Pah-wraiths. Bajor would be free of him, in the past and in the future, forever.

At that moment, the Emissary entered the cavern. There was no hope for him. With taunts and jeers, the Pah-wraith took the Emissary's rifle, and forced him to his knees.

The Emissary was helpless. He was doomed. The defeat of the Prophets had already begun. When the Prophets faded into nonexistence, his mother's rape and possession would disappear as well, and the Emissary would never have been born. He would face the same nonexistence as his masters.

"I've won," said the Pah-wraith to the Prophets. "You've lost." In a moment, all the gods of Bajor would die.

All the gods of Bajor would die. There would never have been any Celestial Temple. No Orbs, no prayer-fires, no shrines, no visions, no prophecies. No kais, vedeks, or ranjins. No priestly d'jarra. No prayers.

 _The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice._ How had Winn allowed herself to believe that this Cardassian tyrant was all the sacrifice the Pah-wraiths had required? She was the Kai of Bajor, elected to speak to the people for the Prophets on matters of faith. And to the Prophets for the people. The Pah-wraiths had called her here because they needed her consent to the death of the Prophets. The Pah-wraiths were asking her to sacrifice her gods.

It was what Winn had wanted. The Prophets had betrayed her, ignoring her prayers, silent as stone at the suffering of her mother and the death of her mentor's son. Only speak to me, she had prayed. Even a word would have sufficed, but the Prophets had refused to speak. She wanted them dead.

It was just. The Prophets had failed her people, had abandoned Bajor to occupation and ruin. The Kosst Amojen had spoken the truth. The Prophets deserved to die. In a moment, they would.

The Prophets deserved to die. And Winn could not bear the thought of life without them.

"You cannot stop me," said the Pah-wraith, bearing down on the Prophets' Emissary, as he prepared to execute justice.

According to the earliest prophecies, the first words of the Prophets had been burned. The people had refused to follow them. Winn's foremother, the first and greatest Kai, had assembled the people and burned the words of the Prophets in their presence so that the shattered text could not bear witness against the people and demand their destruction.

The Prophets deserved to die. The book of the Kosst Amojen made that certain.

The Kai spoke to the people for the Prophets. And to the Prophets for the people.

The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice. The book of the Pah-wraiths demanded that the Kai consent to the death of the Prophets. This sacrifice she was unwilling to make. If there must be a sacrifice, there were others that she could give. Her pride. Her sense of justice. Her life.

Winn Adami lifted the book of the Kosst Amojen high over her head to cast into the flames in her last act as the Kai of Bajor.

"Then I will stop you," she said.

*

Next (&last) chapter: In the Fire Caves, Winn finally answers Dukat's question.


	6. Walk with the Prophets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On gods and forgiveness.

It was in that eternal moment that Winn Adami realized that the Fire Caves had never been closed. The walls were open. Looking up, she saw herself kneeling over Dukat's body at the mouth of the caves, chanting the words to end the Kosst Amojen's exile. To a nonlinear being, that moment would never end and had always been. The Pah-wraiths had never been imprisoned.

To a nonlinear being. Winn's shirt was untorn, her body unwounded. The book of the Kosst Amojen was whole in her hands. The Fire Caves were open. She could leave them, and walk on the face of Bajor, and speak with her people.

She could give them back her book.

 _Walk with the Prophets_ , she had blessed her people at the moment of death. She wondered where she would be walking if she had allowed the Pah-wraiths their self-annihilation. With better gods, perhaps, gods more worthy of their people. Or with none.

Winn opened the book. The pages were all seemingly blank, as they had been when the book had first been brought to her. With a thought, she caused blood to issue from her forefinger. "Forgiveness is not the only path to union," she wrote. _Will not be. Has never been._ "I will never forgive you," she said aloud. _Never have._ The timeless language of the Prophets came easily to her, as if she had spoken it all her life.

The letters burst into flame, burning with the fire of the Pah-wraiths, black fire on white. Then white fire on white, letters indistinguishable. Satisfied, she closed the book and put it aside. It would live, whole and unshattered, for the future Kai to find.

"Dukat," she called out. She waited. He did not appear, would not come to her, so she would go to him. She caused her Kai's robes to form around her as she crossed the caves. These robes no longer belonged to her, but she would need them for what she was about to do.

The Pah-wraiths surrounded her as she neared them. Their touch was tentative, almost afraid. They had given her the power to judge them, a power of which she was unworthy but that she was unable to refuse. "Dukat," she called again.

He materialized, this time in Cardassian form. His Gul's armour shone with the light of flames, and he grinned. "Adami," he said.

"Ask me your question," she said.

His hand reached to her waist as he moved to embrace her. She stepped away. "Ask me your question," she said.

"Adami," he said, more softly this time. He fell to his knees, gazing up at her like a penitent in a shrine.

His humility was feigned, of course, as was his remorse. It always had been. He was as dishonest and deceitful as the beings who had accepted him. Still, Winn herself had not always been completely honest with her gods. She put her hands on his forehead. Her Kai's robes shimmered gold with the light of the Pah-wraiths, and Dukat's Cardassian facial ridges were soft under her fingers.

This was not a man who deserved her love. These were not gods who deserved Bajor's worship. This was no reason not to speak the truth.

"You are of Bajor," she said.

He laughed, and clutched her robes, staring up at her in stunned joy. She did not turn away from his gaze, willing him to believe her words. At last he placed his cheek on her belly, content in her acceptance. Then he shifted form again, and was once again noncorporeal, in the form of the Prophets and Pah-wraiths who were and are and always will be of Bajor. How strange, Winn thought, that after a lifetime of begging to serve the Prophets she had finally been permitted to give them the answer to their greatest need.

The Fire Caves were open, had always been. Soon the Pah-wraiths would leave them to return to the Celestial Temple that had always been their home. Winn Adami would walk among them. But there was no hurry to leave these caves. Those who had once been Prophets were close by, and Winn had many questions to ask them.


End file.
